He's Safe!

Because tropical storm Edouard was headed toward Houston I went to the park so I could feed Elvis. I wasn't feeling so hot, but with a potential hurricane on it's way, and seeing Elvis standing alone on the gravel path from the telescope in our window, I went. I didn't even want to think about Mr. Goose but I couldn't help going to the edge of the water to at least look across to where he usually stands. Lo and behold, I saw a lone Chinese goose, floating in the lake.My heart leapt though my mind tried to keep my feelings in check. Could it be him??? My eyes darted around to find the orange beaked goose (Because the orange beak's partner and Mr. Goose look so much alike, and thosse two new ones are never far apart). Test #1 passed --  he was solo. Then I squinted way across to where I'd been Saturday and made out what appeared to be two geese. Thankfully they're easy to spot by size.  Then, as if the gods were patting me on the shoulder, at that very moment I heard the pair trumpet from that distance, and I knew I had Mr. Goose in front of me!

I only had grain left, but held it out and called, hoping he'd come... Sure enough he did, gliding slowly, raising his beak and trembling the way he always does.

Then he lowered his grand head and gobbled from my palm. Once he was that close I checked for his distinguishing marks -- a rim of yellow on his "eyelids" and a line of white where the ridge of his black knob meets his forehead. The new black beaked goose doesn't have those.
Oh Mr. Goose, Mr Goose! Isn't he glorious?

I try not to get too attached. Early on, as I'd see little ducklings disappear each day or happen upon a dying bird, I told myself that if I were going to be a part of this, I had to respect that nature takes it's course. But to have such direct interaction with an animal as compelling as this for the last 2 years IS in fact a relationship. And to suddenly find he and Mrs. Goose both gone without a trace, at a time of year that could not be explained by mating or migration, wasn't so easy to accept.

My heart just sang yesterday to see him at last.

Hope

Had a meeting at the zoo this morning. The entrance is very close to where the geese hang out, so I bolted and checked for signs of at least Mr. Goose. He's still missing. It was high noon and one of the hottest days this year... but there were the new two, with their legs in the water keeping cool. The black beaked one even went to sleep standing in full sun so I can't say it was too hot for Mr. G. I don't know if he's flown away, or if Mrs. Goose has babies and he's in the center of the island somewhere helping take care of them. I've read male geese have strong paternal instincts (she said with hope hope hope).

Knowing I was grasping at straws, I made the rounds to their usual places. I looked across to the front end of the center island, where I've occasionally seen all four nipping at greens on the shore. Deserted.


Then I tramped to where I often saw them enjoying the shade or where they swam back to after eating my bread. It's on the back end of the center island, a place I figure they call home.

See the darkish cove formed by that tree hanging low into the lake? That's where they usually are, if not on the shore in the picture at the top.

I knew I wouldn't see them, just like all the other times I've looked. Still, there's a pathway that goes back into that brush and in my minds eye I picture Mrs. Goose sitting on a nest in the thicket, nosing at her eggs while Mr. Goose regally stands guard beside her.

This just makes me laugh

Mr Goose Update

Yesterday I decided to go out in the morning this time, hoping that the hour would make a difference in the missing Mrs. Goose's schedule. Though my prior visits were midday and afternoon, it wasn't much cooler at 9:30 AM. The sunlight was such that I could, for the first time, see through all the dense underbrush on one side of the center island.  I searched for signs of her even though I know their home is on the back, where the ground remained shrouded. No luck.

The alarming thing is that I didn't see Mr. Goose this time either!  Oh woe is me.  

I did see the other two, who honked their usual greeting and swam all the way across the lake to take a few pieces of bread from my hand. I ended up walking the distance over to where they usually hang out and didn't see either of them.

On the way home I attempted to comfort myself by thinking my timing has been bad, or that she's indeed sitting on a nest, though I've known them together for two plus years yet never seen them with goslings.  I wondered if they got fed up and flew off to one of the other bodies of water that I have seen waterfowl at... but why would she go first and he stay behind for a week? Did she die and after a few weeks then he decided to fly off? Or did something happen to him too now?

In reading more about them I learned they make good meals...  is it possible that someone actually nabbed these birds to cook up? There's an awfully large mix of cultures in Houston that might find that to be quite normal.

I stopped two uniformed park people in a golf cart driving by and asked if they knew of the geese (they did) and had noticed she was gone.  Had they heard she was found dead or sick? They had no news of such a thing. 

Guess I have to hold out hope that Mrs. Goose is sitting on a nest, or this heat is just too much for her, and at the unfortunate timing of my visit, Mr. Goose -- albeit for the first time --was deep in the center island where they made their home, keeping her company.   

WOO HOO!

Today I got this in an e-maill:

"Good news! Your patience has paid off. Carnivores is looking for Keeper Aides (insert little happy dance here). When would be a good time for you to come in for an interview?"

Though I am training to be a docent, which is spread out over 10 months, and once done, requires that I give about 60 hours of volunteer work a year, I wanted even more to work as a keepers aid. You get to actually be near and care for a certain species behind the scenes. That will mean I give an additional 96 hours a year.

I had signed up to work with birds & waterfowl (since I've gotten so much interaction with them here and would now like to raise some when I own some property), and the big cats (since when do you ever get to work near lions, tigers, jaguars, cougars and mountain lions......?).

I LOVE cats, but I actually was doing so much reading on the birds and have been able to observe and interact with them so much more in the park that I was kind of leaning towards working with them.  The big kitties sleep 20 hours a day it seems, and one slip up and I could get eaten, lol, but scooping their poop is hardly the task of those working with elephants, for example. Always a bright side!  Anyway, I'm thrilled, but I just have to switch gears in my head.

Shifts BEGIN at 7 AM ( I am not a morning person!)... but the joy of being with animals, helping others appreciate them and hopefully, get interested in protecting them and their environment makes all the rest a non-issue.  On top of it I get great training and experience without having to go back to college.  I figure after working with celebrities for the last 30 years, wrangling very large man eating animals at the crack of dawn will be a breeze.

Fast Facts

I learned that the grackle is unique in that they dip whatever morsel they've found in water before they eat it.  I watch them do this all the time with the bread I throw them, but I figured they did it because it was too hard/stale, lol.

I tried to get a picture of a fledgeling doing this Saturday, using a rain puddle, but she was too skittish and I could not get close enough with only my iphone for a camera.  I'll keep trying though.

Until then, I found someone got movies of this and posted it on YouTube.

I'm jealous but 'til I can get my own movie of it, I'd rather you see it. Grackles in Houston have much longer tails than these.

Forest Yoga

It's been soooo hot that squirrels were laying on the ground outstretched, which makes them look all the more adorable.  Here is a video of the little girl squirrel that Mr. Bigballz was chasing. I gave her a cashew and thank god I kept shooting because she took it to a shady spot and spread out.  When I tip toed around to get a better view, she stopped for a moment to look at what I was doing, and, comforted, went right back to it. Didn't flinch even as I got about 4 inches from her face.   These creatures amuse me to no end!

I'm Worried

I have not seen Mrs. Goose the last four trips to the park. Granted, when I first saw Mr. Goose, and for several subsequent visits, he was a seeming bachelor. But one day I saw him with a very feminine, very pretty gander, who has not been far from his side ever since. They swim together, eat grass in the fields together, come up to me to get bread together. If she is done and he eats longer, she'll stand by for a bit but nags him and gives him little nips in his side til he heads wherever she wants to go. They are definitely mates. And Geese mate for life. Oh where has she gone?

It is July and very hot. At first I hoped that she was just cooling off in the shade of the trees on the center island. I also wondered if she might be sitting on a nest, though it seems doubtful that this would be the time of year for that. (I've read everything I can find on Chinese Geese but there are no straight answers about WHEN they mate, or IF they do under these conditions -- apparently they are only found in Asia, so I wonder how the heck not one but now four have been living at our pond).

The new pair of geese are usually in the vicinity of Mr. and Mrs. G, but he is usually making it clear that this is HIS property, and his lady and he get to eat from my hand before the other two. Now I see him hanging around them, and they eat first. I make a point to feed him first anyway, and well, asking him softly where Mrs. Goose has gone.

I will keep you updated, but for now, I'm praying she's OK.

This Squirrel's Got Cahones

BIG ones, quite literally, attractively highlighted by dark black fur. This picture just does not capture it -- er, them --well enough but I wanted to leave the guy some dignity.

He was chasing a little girl squirrel around in circles. Charming how they play like this, I thought, so amusing, so very Chip and Dale (I know, they were chipmunks, but whatever...). I got closer to shoot a mini-movie of them to put here but of course the minute they saw me they broke apart, more interested to learn if I had any almonds or cashews for them.

That's when I noticed that he has plenty in the nuts department.

This is Elvis

A Muscovy duck who lives in the reflection pond at The Park. I named him Elvis for obvious reasons. He has a slicked back, jet black pompadour. And while red globby knobs of flesh are a part of all Muscovy faces, Elvis' face is smooth and black, save for these perfectly symmetrical, dashing red accent caruncles framing his 'do. They remind me of a type of stitching commonly adorning 50's style clothing, so I admire that he's consistent, stylistically speaking.

What I love about Elvis is that he comes running when he sees me, with his big black webbed feet slapping on the cement along the water's edge. He's adorably bow legged so his big body wobbles from side to side as he does this, like a ship being tossed about in a storm. (Truth be told, he probably recognizes the bread bag and not me, but my heart just swells to bursting when I see him perk up and race toward me).

I've been feeling pooped and blue after returning home from yet another memorial for my father, on the heels of a long, emotional week... only to get a voicemail that a friend who I'd just spoken to before I left had passed away. That was kind of the straw that broke me in the marathon of life events I seem to have been running. I was listless, exhausted, too tired to exercise, shower, or even to lay down and too restless to read, write e-mail or watch TV. My husband said, why don't you go to the park to feed your ducks, which sounded good but seemed impossible. I looked out at the pond through our telescope and saw Elvis, the wood duck couple and the gang of mallards who are the regulars there and it was enough for me to grab some bread and my keys. I drove the three blocks to get there. Yes, I drove instead of walked - I was that bad off. But it worked wonders to restore my spirit.

Usually Elvis hangs with two other Muscovy guys, clearly their leader, but this time he was by himself. Thanks to summer solstice, the day was only just fading at 8 PM. The light was very calming and almost no one was in the park. It was very peaceful to just spend time with him, one on one. I sat at the edge of the pool. He got very close and ate one piece at a time from my fingers. The bread was soft so I got to see his long pink tongue help to squinch it down to his throat. When he was ready for another piece he'd turn his beak back to me and gobble what I offered.

What really blew me away was our eye contact. He looked directly at me the entire time, and I could see he picked up on my trustworthiness (there are a lot of kids who throw rocks and chase these birds during the day). We communicated silently, back and forth until 2 1/2 pieces of bread were consumed. He swallowed with some difficulty for a minute, then took 3 steps over to the edge and, gripping solidly with feet that now looked more like hands than flippers, leaned toward the water. He'd collect a few drops with the end of his bill and raise his head up so it would roll down his throat, his head bobbing a little to help.

After several delicate little sips he settled in to grooming himself (a nightly ritual), digging deep into this feathers on his chest, under his leg, behind his large wings, nipping here and there.

I sat very still next to him and observed, feeling privileged to be so close to this wild bird. And my malaise was no more.

Previews of Coming Attractions!

OK, I've got a HD digital movie camera on order that also shoots stills. I hope to take some little movies and pictures of my adventures and upload them here, as I think it will make all the difference in my reports. I have shot both movies and pix on my phone of my time in the park and now at the zoo, but it's is too hard to figure out how to transfer it to my Mac. I could do it, just have not had the time and in the last move 3 months ago, the plugs and booklet that are necessary have decided to hide.

Stop back soon for what I hope will become a fun desk-time frolic for all of us here.

In the mean time, my friend Zoetawny, who does graphics for Jackie's TV Blog made me a few graphics. I uploaded one a few posts back, entitled "My first day at the Zoo" but it only loaded 3/4 of the way.  These are the things that force me to learn what I'm doing.  Pop down and read it, as it was not posted before. 

Learning to FLY

The most common bird around here is the long tailed grackle. They look like blackbirds and are quite big as birds go -- bigger than bluejays and cardinals. The females don't have the long tail and they are brown, joining most females in the bird world who have have less visual pizzaz than their men. The boys' feathers have a distinct deep blue sheen to their black plumage, iridesent like an opal. They don't hop, they strut. They are really sharp too... they may look nonchalant, but they know when you're around and if you toss a crumb or seed their way they're on it immediately and in a flash, back for more.

Until we moved in mid February, we lived on the 6th floor of a high rise, just above a row of trees. When Spring came they became grackle condos, their boughs swaying with found twigs, the mothers tucking the edges just so while the fathers held court high on an outer limb, emitting their strange mechanical caw. Every morning, you'd hear the chatter rise with the sun. I am NOT a morning person but many dawns found me on the porch with binoculars watching these things with the awe of a child. In all my years, somehow I'd managed to miss this going on around me. I could peek into several grackle nests and every now and then be treated to seeing the babies pop their heads up. But I never saw them leave the nest or learn to fly because the trees leaves grew too full by that time.

Yesterday I had to kill time waiting for the zoo to open. I noticed a racket going on over head and looked up to see two females fighting in the tree I stood beneath. They separated for a moment on different branches, then collided again, then separated still squawking at each other. I noticed a small grayish -brown, rather furry looking thing a bit higher up, partially obscured by leaves. It was very still. I was trying to figure out what it was, when one of the females flew past my face to the fence post beyond my shoulder. As I was turning to look at her, the fuzzy little thing swooped down along the same path in a bit of a zig zag and made an unsteady landing on the top wire of the fence itself. It was clearly a bird, but one that I'd never seen before. It had wings but the feathers were choppy, like how your bangs turned out if you tried to cut them yourself when you're seven. It was more plump than long, and it had a tail but it looked like a cat had taken a bite out of it.

Within 10 seconds the female grackle took a short flight from the post to the closest branch and the little bird followed more confidently. This time it managed to pick a branch more quickly, grabbed hold with it's little claws and landed. Just then the adult took off for a slightly higher branch, and the little one followed. I realized I was watching a mother giving her fledgling flying lessons.

Within the hour I saw two more fluffy babies sitting on branches, presumably near their nests, feeling the breeze and taking life in, with the safety of their mother perched close by. It just could not believe I saw three in one day after two years of watching daily for from my patio and on my many walks in the park and never seeing a one!

How magical it is to be this engaged in and delighted by L-I-F-E. Nature has done it's thing for centuries, but I feel new to it all, just like the fledgelings. I've traveled the world, and had the privilege to do a lot of very interesting, exciting and meaningful things. As I approach the half-century mark in my own, little lifetime, how amazing that it all comes back down to the things that are simplest and smallest.

Thank you to birdfeeders 101 for this borrowed picture.

First Day at the Zoo

Today was my first day volunteering at the Zoo. I was so excited to get my official polo shirt with the Zoo logo (which I paired with the requisite Kakhi pants and hiking boots). This weekend they were celebrating Earth Day, and I signed up to work the Orangutan booth.

I guess they trade off who, from a large group of O's, is in the habitat at given time. This day there was mother, her 4 year old baby boy and the father. Usually the father has nothing much to do with his offspring, and the baby is pretty clingy for the first few years of life. But this father, imposing as he was with his big face and his long reddish dreadlocks and giant hands, had lot of interaction with his son. The baby clearly adored him and went back to him over and over. After a period of Sunday morning grouchiness, the dad finally accepted the baby's advances.

It was odd how human they were। After a bit of Dad pushing the baby as he tried to do somersaults, they just sat and held hands। Then baby put on a sparkly silver sequin dress part way and paraded around for a moment or two before it was thrown on the ground. Sometimes he picked up one of the turtles that live in their little pond and carried it around like a football. He does this often enough that his mother was trained to turn the turtles right side up, as her little boy tended to put them down any which way and they'd be stuck. She was given a treat for this task. The keepers told me that sometimes she'd go turn the turtles upside down herself just to turn them back over for a treat.

Two things made my day. I hadn't been there for more than 10 minutes before the baby walked up to me standing in front of his habitat. I squatted down to his eye level, as he was just about the size of a human 4 year old, and put my hand up on the glass. He put his hand up right against mine. Regardless of the inch of foreign matter between our palms I felt the connection.

Later, I noticed the Dad had come to the glass and was staring out. The Staff Guy who ran the booth told me that the Orangutan would like it if I showed him something and handed me a conservation pamphlet to use. Again I got face to face and held up the pamphlet. The big guy took his time, first looking me deeply in the eyes. I held his gaze until he shifted his attention to what I was holding. There was a picture of an Orangutan on the front, which I pointed out. Then I ran my fingers along the large lettering and said what it said. On the back there were some bright colors, so I flipped it over and showed him that. He took it all in. I found it amusing to think of myself basically as Primate TV.

We sold raffle tickets for two paintings done by Orangutans. There are many animals that paint but the O's actually pick their colors (very well, I might add) and when they're done, they push the canvas back to you. Amazing creatures!

What a wonderful beginning!

The Only Big Cat That Likes Water

Thursday I walked through the zoo, which is just past the park we usually walk around. I have a membership and decided it's an easy way to stretch our exercise time to just sail through the gates and circle around whatever interests me. It's a big motivator when the scenery offers elephants, flamingos, bears, seals, raptors and lions.















It had been sprinkling and overcast, so the place was blissfully quiet and cool, unpopulated save for a few families, and thus free of the attendant chaos. The live oak trees --common to this area --with their incredibly long, low reaching limbs with fresh, shiny new leaves of spring fully unfurled on every branch created a protective canopy over my head. I  kept up my pace past twin cheetah kittens and the giraffes. But I was stopped dead in my tracks by the sight of one of the two brother Malaysian tigers swimming his little lake.


Seems no matter what time of day I visit, the big cats are all sleeping. But there was the gorgeous, regal head of this creature, with it's bright orange fur slashed by jet black stripes, gliding smoothly though the darkened water.

His eyes were bright and blue. His thick paws were visible, paddling rhythmically, pushing him along on a diagonal and very deliberate path from one end to the other. He then climbed out, slinked across the grass past rocks and around trees to return to his starting point. Again he'd climb right in, and all but his paws would disappear as his body sank into the depths. His shoulder muscles were further defined with every stroke. Amid all this majesty, something cute: his tongue stuck out as he did it.

(click picture to enlarge)

I positioned myself (where I took the pic above) right in his sight lines. Here he swam VERY close to me. On one pass he made direct, proplonged eye contact. It was nothing short of chilling! This ain't no kitty, but a beautiful beast with quite humbling power -- a killing machine -- and there was only a short flimsy fence and an electrical deterrent between us.

Googling Geese

Last night I couldn't sleep so I sat up researching to see if I could identify what Mr. and Mrs. Goose (and the new pair) are and if the orange billed goose is different... I have also been wondering about their mating and parenting cycles. 

I've been involved with Mr. and Mrs. Goose for about 2 years now and they have never had a chick, as far as I've seen. I think they settle in at night on the small island in the middle of the lake so I've never been able to see if Mrs. G has ever laid an egg, even if it didn't hatch. When I first spotted Mr. G, he was alone all the time. He was so big and regal, I stopped dead in my tracks at the sight and ever after, sought him out in my walks.  I always found him standing around, the only one of his kind, usually in one of two grassy areas on the park shore. 

One day --the first day I brought bread and Husband realized the goose would eat from his hand -- he swam out to greet us with a lovely gander. I didn't know if this was a new mate and he was no longer a bachelor or if she'd been around all this time and I'd only caught him on his solo forays.   24 months and many interactions later, I've only seen them apart once, so I got to thinking that maybe she had been sitting on a nest back then. If that was so, I never saw any babies. You figure eventually they would get big enough to come out and swim, learn to eat and fly before they might head to parts unknown.  But there are few baby ducks who survive of the MANY that are born year round. I'm still trying to figure out who the predators are.  Maybe these big geese's babes are no less immune to whatever fate befalls the rest.

Looks like they're called Chinese Geese, due to many distinctions, the most prominent being the unusual knob they sport on their beaks.  (pls. excuse the piece of bread sticking out of his)

Still working on the orange billed bird.

Crane Migration, live video

Check out the The Rowe Sanctuary Cran Cam which is live from Mar. 7 - Apr. 6, 2008. THis is when the largest collection of cranes migrate to Alaska to breed, but stop in Nebraska in the spring to eat and rest. My sister drives there from Colorado to see it live, and says it's quite a spectacle. Best viewing times are 6:30-8:30 AM CST 7:00-9:00 PM CST.... in the comfort and warmth of your own home. Grab a cup of coffee and watch.

http://video.nationalgeographic.com/video/cranecam/

There's a new Goose in Town

Came back from New Zealand to find a new pair of geese showed up at the park's lake. While I believe they mate for life, they look like 2 males in size. One isn't smaller than the other, which would be the obvious way to spot the female. If the slightly smaller one is the female, she has something I've not seen before -- a traffic-cone-orange beak. The other has a black beak with the horn-like protrusion, just like Mr. Goose (refer to previous posts). He eats very gently from my hand but the orange beak is grabby.

It makes me have great fondness for the gentle one, because he's quite big, and they are both wild. Having flown over our pond and stopping for what I imagine was a few night's stay, they quickly learned there are lots of people who bring food, and that they are the biggest of the competing mouths. Watching the 4 geese we have in action amid the muscavoys, black bellied whistlers, wood ducks, those white Afflack kind of ducks, coots and nutrias, I understand where the phrase "pecking order" comes from.

No fear of their bite when it comes to me. Besides that I am the "biggest" of them all, they have no teeth, just little ridges about half way back on either side of their bills... looks very much like the teeth in a hair comb, Barbie sized. When they open up I can see a slim, long, rather human looking pink tongue, so at the very worst it feels like a weak clothespin shutting if they grab your finger when you're handing out bits of bread.

What amazes me is that wild ducks in New Zealand also ate from my hand (though the Pokekos (behind them) didn't. This is a morning feeding from our camper van), and these wild geese greet me and take from my hand too. How is that possible that they seem so tame? They see me coming, start to honk and lumber quite deliberately toward me with their big, rubbery feet slapping the ground and their fluffy white butts wiggling, which amuses me to no end. I have to admit, I feel quite amazed and lucky to have this kind of interaction with them.

Porch Post

No birds are eating from the yummy big steak-like sunflower seed feeder that I hung as low as I could off our porch, just above the trees where I've been watching the black birds (got to look up their names) raise their babies all season. They're sharp birds, boldly hunt for food and will take a stab at whatever they can find -- from worms to MacDonalds fries. Every morning I hear them squaking and watch them, often through binocs, as they fly around finding breakfast... It's busy -- the bird version of happy hour -- but they have not found their way up to my porch, where a banquet awaits. Plugging in my water fountain does not call to them, nor do the strawberies that are bite size and ripe hanging from baskets, or the herbs or flowerboxes. I thought such a nice environment would becon better than plain cement and garden furniture would. No Dice.

However, I saw a turtle dove standing on the railing one day, and I never see birds come up here, even though we're only about 5 stories high. I just wanted to makethe food OBVIOUS in hopes of that bird or others coming back. As a last resort I took down the clear feeder that I'd stuck to the window (a first try) and spread out it's corn, seeds, nuts and shelled sunflower bits in a corner on the patio floor.

Lo and behold, the turtledove now comes daily with a mate and so has a sparrow with a black head and markings... and with it, a littler sparrow that is all brown. Don't know if this is a Mr and Mrs or a mother and her fledgeling. 

A sparrow is out there eating now, and the little brown one comes and goes. They say that birds will come if you leave out food, and these do come every day... but apparently they are not spreading the word!

Life Continues to Reveal

If you ask me I'd tell you, without a moment's hesitation, that I am a City Girl. That's right, with capital letters.

As such, I've lived in several cities, something I aspired to when I was stretched across my bed at age 16, dreaming up what I wanted to do in my life. I've visited many, enough to move about easily when I go, which was one goal, but I've actually lived in Chicago, Boston, Los Angeles, Paris, New York and now Houston.

The cities I like best are ones with abundant public transportation, because I like getting around on foot, flagging a cab, or taking a bus or train or subway. That would not be LA. I didn't love LA, but that's a whole other story.

I like the action. I like sweaty, sticky summer nights, walking through the streets hearing a distant sax riff carried on the breeze, which seems to always happen in the village in New York. I love cobblestones, intricate doorways, dusty bookshops, crowded sidewalk cafes, funky one of a kind stores tucked away on a side street and mom and pop coffee shops with writers and readers that sit for hours and are regulars, ones you can get to know if you sit there long enough yourself.

A really great thing about city life is the people who leave their blinds and drapes open so those of us on the street can get a glimpse of their lives as we pass by... and more than a glimpse if we pause. Whenever I have moved into an apartment, I go to the window to check out who my neighbors are. Just like when you see people doing things in their car, forgetting everyone can see them from all sides, so too are the folks who live in their apartments in a big city (my shades were ALWAYS closed).

City life offers so much culture-- plays, art, music, dance, food, flea markets, movies, gyms, stores galore --and interaction with people (and often their pets) from every walk of life. When I moved to Houston, most of that disappeared.I guess it was exaggerated coming from New York, which probably offers more of the above that most cities in the entire world. I was not looking for Houston to duplicate my NY lifestyle in the slightest, but I didn't know I'd struggle so much to find any of these things. The one thing I was looking forward to at some point in life was getting back to nature. Little did I know I'd find that I'd find it here, the 4th largest city in the US. It's just about the only thing I've found here that enriches me, but it's an absolutely marvelous surprise. And it's not in the form of horses, cacti and tumbleweeds, which might be your first guess when you think TEXAS.

This blog will tell the tales of my adventures in nature. I'm not promising it will always be a fascinating read. But it expands my joy to take notes when the experiences are fresh... and I can have them for a time when I may move on from here. Hopefully there will be some appeal to the bona fide out there who love all things animal, weather, plant and sky.